THE TRACK

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As he blew out the smoke he felt disgusted with, he sat and stared at the table. It barely had anything on it but he was lost in deep thought. People always thought it was the high that made him sit and stare, not knowing the truth. ‘To be honest, I think that was kind of true.’ he thought to himself, but lately something started to happen gradually. His self-awareness slowly grew, he started detaching himself from people and focusing more on his thoughts. His train of thoughts were slowly linking up, from one vehicle going nowhere, to a barely visible train heading forward with unlimited tracks to take.

He got up and headed for the table, promising himself for the hundredth time that he’d quit soon while turning off the joint. It might have helped him create the train, but lately it would take him through the wrong tracks. Tracks he didn’t want to take, tracks that were necessary, but with a different train. Life was getting serious by the second, and he’d usually escape with the smoke. He’d abuse drugs, take anything he knew could numb the pain and help him escape. It went well in the beginning, with a lot of complaining from people important to him, enjoying the other life. This life where what little he remembered was a haze of a wild rapture that he’d laugh at and reminisce the day after. But it was finally time.

Time to take control of everything in his life. Time to make the most of his day, every day. He went over to the table and turned off the joint on the wood. Anxiety attacks were common with him, but today was different. Today he made the decision to put his life back on track. To be better than ever. He wore his fake smile and continued his routine. Today wouldn’t be the day to get his life back, but ram a gate long enough, it shatters paving a new road before you.